


Hot Town/Summer in the City

by storyskein



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bravenlarke, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6679339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyskein/pseuds/storyskein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke can't sleep, and she's the loudest thinker <em>ever</em>, which wakes up Raven, which wakes up Bellamy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Town/Summer in the City

Clarke rolls over and looks at the digital clock on Bellamy’s night stand. The numbers _2:03_ glow at her, blue and defiant. 

_Fuck._

It’s Saturday morning, so it’s not like Clarke has anything to do later, but it’s particularly miserable to be unable to sleep when your partners are snoozing soundly beside you. And you’re in the middle. 

Trapped. 

Besides, what would she do? Go downstairs and watch GBBO again? Stare at the canvas that had been frustrating her for weeks? Eat a popsicle? 

Well…that last one…but that would require crawling over Bellamy, and while he wouldn’t mind…

Clarke sighs. She might be restless, but she’s also lazy. 

And it’s fucking _2:06_ in the morning. 

The problem is that it’s summer in Seattle, in the middle of a heat wave, and their apartment doesn’t have air-conditioning. The only breeze is from their window fan which does little more than kick up dust. And when you’ve found yourself in the middle of two furnace-like creatures well…it’s hot. The bottom sheet clings to her. Her tanktop is sticky with sweat. The curls of her newly-chopped-off hair (thanks to the heat wave) are stuck to the back of her neck. 

_2:09._

Clarke closes her eyes and wills her self to imagine herself on a nice beach…the ocean waves rolling in…and out…in….and out…Tropical sand…Wind in the palms…in and out…

A motorcycle roars past her window. 

Clarke’s eyes flick open.

_2:14._

Fuck. 

Okay, try again. Back to the beach. Crystal blue water…sparkling white sand…balmy breeze…and the ocean waves rolling in…and out…and in…and…

A slim finger slides in between her legs. 

“Raven!” 

“Clarke, you are the loudest trying-to-be-quiet person ever.” Raven’s voice is gravelly as she slides a second finger between Clarke’s thighs, crooking them _just a little bit_ into her. 

Raven raises her eyebrow. “Want some help?”

Clarke grins, catching her lower lip on her teeth. Raven is lovely and mussed, strands of her dark hair framing her face, Clarke thinks, and her already-hot skin starts to flush. Suddenly being awake doesn’t seem so bad. 

Raven scoots closer, lightly dragging her fingers against Clarke’s clit. Clarke bites down a gasp and rotates her hips slightly open so Raven has better access. She nuzzles Clarke’s throat, licking down her neck as her fingers gently spread Clarke’s folds, drawing her moisture over her cunt. 

They don’t speak, and they don’t need to. Raven and Clarke have been together five years now, and Bellamy came along three years ago. The benefit of that is that they know exactly how to get each other off. They like to play, sure, and they experiment all the time, but when it’s almost three in the morning—well, time is of the essence and efficiency is key. 

For Clarke, efficiency equals friction. Raven cups Clarke’s cunt in her palm, rubbing the base against her nub. Clarke grinds down, and Raven smiles into her neck. Clarke always wants there to be more friction, and Raven knows it, and loves to tease her by pulling away and pushing in, pulling away and pushing in harder. 

But god, it’s so good. Raven pushes in one finger, then two, then three, in rapid succession and fuck. Quickly it becomes not just about getting Clarke off so she can sleep, but about Raven, too. Clarke smiles against Raven’s skin as she thinks about how Raven is always so mission-focused, in and out of bed, and while Clarke can be too—well, in bed, Clarke likes to delay her awhile. Likes to enjoy her muscled body and soft lips and and perfect ass. 

So Clarke takes Raven’s breast into her mouth and sucks hard, enough to cause Raven’s rhythm to stutter.

“Fuck, Clarke, that’s so good.” Raven presses her breast against Clarke’s mouth. There’s an understanding that they should be quiet, some sort of secret atmosphere in the hot, sticky night, but—good sex is good sex, you know? 

In one swift movement Raven spreads Clarke’s thighs and rolls in between them. She removes her hand from Clarke’s cunt—and Clarke whines—shushed by Raven’s mouth. Instead Raven grinds against Clarke with her hips. 

And yeah…as much as she loves Raven’s uber-competent hands, Clarke also loves the feeling of Raven’s hips bearing down into her.

It’s only after five thrusts that both of them know Bellamy is awake and watching. Raven slows to a stop, but keeps the pressure on because she knows it drives Clarke crazy. Clarke arches against her. She places wet, sloppy, showy kisses down Clarke’s neck, collarbone, and breasts as if to ask, _Want in on this, Blake?_

He inhales sharply, and Clarke watches him watch Raven nip at her breasts. She arches upward, just a little. 

It’s all Bellamy can handle. 

“Why are we doing this at three in the morning?” he murmurs into Raven’s neck as he nips Raven down her deceptively slight shoulders.

“Why not?” Raven counters, greeting him with an open mouthed kiss. Raven sits up on her knees, and she and Bellamy continue to kiss above her. 

Clarke watches from below, love and heat mixing delightfully in her lower belly. When people find out they’re a triad, they always assume that Bellamy does the watching as she and Raven show off for him. It’s a stupid, tired assumption, and if anything, it’s Clarke that loves to watch them. Raven, who is so adamant that she doesn’t need tenderness from the world, and Bellamy who always, always gives it to her.

Like now, when Bellamy kisses Raven hard, but his hands are gentle as he strokes down her sides and grips her ass. It’s a secret between the three of them how soft, sliding touches undo Raven. And since efficiency is the name of the game…

But maybe not anymore. 

Clarke turns to Bellamy’s dick, already hard, and wraps her fist around him. Slow and light, she licks at the head and on his slit, but enough to cause him to groan into Raven’s mouth. Clarke loves sucking dick, loves the weight of Bellamy on her tongue, his salty-tangy precum, the way he intuitively knows what she wants from it. She sucks him into her mouth, setting a quick rhythm between her fist and mouth. 

Every time he grips her head harder, every time she causes him to falter in groping Raven, Clarke gets more and more wet. Raven picks up on the _Undo Bellamy Blake Game_ —one of their favorites—and moves her kisses from his lips onto _that_ place behind his ear, down his neck, at the front of his collarbone. 

“Tag teaming isn’t fair,” he grits out, though he knows it’s a useless (and hypocritcal) protest. 

Raven breaks from kissing him and smiles. “Tag teaming is the point, Bell.”

To emphasize her position, Clarke takes him fully into her mouth, opening her throat and taking down to the base. 

“Fuck, Clarke!” Bellamy’s legs jerk against her in surprise. 

Raven laughs. “Like I said…”

But they’ve been together long enough that Bellamy knows what they’re doing, and knows how to play hardball. He grips Raven’s hips and shoves her up over his face while he pushes his hips down the bed. In three seconds flat, Raven has gone from teasing Bellamy to gripping the headboard as he thrusts his tongue into her. 

“Goddamn,” Clarke giggles as Raven is torn between amusement and being totally fucking turned on. 

Raven is still for a few seconds, then starts rolling her hips over Bellamy’s mouth. His hands grip her hips to guide and steady her, knowing that it helps her leg and hips to have better support, and he’s strong enough to do it. Clarke trails one hand down to her clit and starts rubbing there, lazily, and then returns her mouth to Bellamy’s cock. 

From her vantage point, Clarke watches as Bellamy licks into Raven with the flat of his tongue, long strokes from her entrance to her clit. Raven shudders over him and begins to move. Watching them is like watching a finely choreographed dance, Bellamy knowing exactly what Raven wants and giving it to her. 

Clarke lazily licks and sucks on Bellamy’s dick, knowing that her turn is coming, but really just wanting to enjoy watching them. She straddles his well-muscled thigh and grinds on it, just a bit, because she loves the feel of his muscle beneath her. It’s pleasant to be so turned on and see how long she can maintain the feeling—pleasant and frustrating as hell. Clarke didn’t know that the summer heat could make her so turned-on. 

She watches as Bellamy sucks at Raven, fucks her with his tongue, and her cunt starts to actually ache. She’s swollen, and when she reaches down to circle her clit with her thumb and it _hurts._

Just as Clarke is contemplating her next move—threesomes take choreography even as intuitive as they are with each other—Raven’s hips buck over Bellamy and she comes with a yell that pierces the balmy night. 

Raven is gasping as she slides down Bellamy to rest on his chest. “Well…the neighbors…”

Clarke kisses up Bellamy’s stomach. “Will know that we have an amazing sex life, and be more jealous than they already are.”

“If possible.” Bellamy hauls Clarke the rest of the way up. “I haven’t kissed you yet.” 

Just as he is gentle with Raven, he knows Clarke likes it—needs it—rough sometimes. He bites into her and she returns his kiss with equal fervor. She tastes Raven on his mouth, all sweet and iodine, and licks into him. 

“What do you want, Clarke?” Bellamy’s fingers lightly wander over her spine. “You started all of this, apparently.”

“Loudest thinker ever,” Raven supplies, bringing Clarke’s palm to her mouth to kiss it. 

At this point, they’re all covered in sweat, stuck to each other’s bodies. Clarke thinks for a moment about calling it off and just going to sleep. She could now, she’s pleasantly tired—but just as she considers it her cunt delivers a protesting shock. Besides, one things she’s had to learn over the past five/three years is to give in and let other people take care of her sometimes—and Raven and Bellamy love doing that. 

Clarke flips through the rolodex of their greatest hits, but now that she is tired…and the atmosphere is so close and warm…and Raven and Bellamy are already (still, really) relaxed and sleepy…and now that she’s feeling lazy…

But Bellamy knows what she’s thinking. Of course he does. 

He flips to his side, wraps his arm around her and tugs her to be the little spoon. Raven hooks Clarke’s leg around her hip, opening her for Bellamy. His skin is slick and hot as he presses against her, kissing the back of her neck and her shoulders. His fingers massage the muscles down her spinal column, and any tension she had left dissolves. Clarke feels not so much herself as she does a part of them. 

Raven, at her front, rolls Clarke’s nipples between her fingers, bends down and traces her tongue over the pink areola and blue veins that show through Clarke’s pale skin. Her fingers once again find Clarke’s clit, this time pinching it lightly in time with the attention she is giving Clarke’s tits. 

Before she can even process it, Clarke peaks, a soft and gentle orgasm that shakes her thighs and causes her to shudder in their arms. Bellamy smiles against her shoulder. Raven kisses Clarke deep and open, twining their tongues together and pressing her hips into Clarke’s. 

“Hot,” Raven smirks. “But I think we can do better,” she says, meeting Bellamy’s eyes over the top of Clarke’s head. 

“Definitely,” Bellamy agrees. With that, knowing that Clarke was super sensitive after coming, he pushes his dick into her from behind. Raven hitches her leg up even further, Bellamy slides in more, and Clarke’s breath catches in her throat. With her swollen, sensitive cunt, and his large dick, and Raven’s skin sticking to her stomach and breasts, it’s too much. Clarke kisses Raven with wet. biting kisses, grasping her hair, pulling her in as close as possible. She pushes back to meet each stroke of Bellamy’s, and the slapping of their flesh reverberates in the room. 

“Let it out, baby,” Raven whispers against her mouth. Raven’s eyes are big and brown and loving. Clarke moans into her mouth as Bellamy fucks her. What was a lazy, middle-of-the-night rhythm turns desperate. 

They’re a tangle of limbs and groans and breath. Clarke can tell Raven is starting to get off again, and Bellamy’s hips are snapping against her ass when he reaches for her top leg and pulls it up higher. He drops his hips down on the bed a few inches then begins to thrust up into her and holy shit. 

“Fuck, Bellamy, you feel so good,” Clarke’s groans, which spurs him on even more. He’s murmuring the filthiest things into her ear about how tight she is, how wet. She’s trying to keep her eyes open so she can watch Raven, who is now finger-fucking herself, but goddamn, it’s almost impossible. 

Raven comes again first, biting into Clarke’s shoulder to muffle her scream. Clarke pulls her closer, desperate to feel Raven’s skin against hers, wanting to hold her as she shudders. 

It’s just enough sensation to put her over the top again, but this time Clarke comes in sharp jolts that causes her head to snap back on Bellamy’s shoulder, her body to twist between them. She shoves her palm to her clit to make it last just that much longer, long enough to sustain it while Bellamy drives into her, into his own release. 

*

They lay in a pile, panting, bodies languid and twined together. Eventually they rouse themselves and move like the precisely calibrated unit they are: Bellamy strips the sheets, Clarke puts on new ones. Raven starts the shower and when the bed is made Bellamy and Clarke join Raven for a quick rinse. 

Tonight—well, this morning—there aren’t shower shenanigans, just squeals from Clarke as the cold water hits her. Then soap and soft kisses and suddenly, all three are back in bed. 

“I love you guys.” Clarke says, absentmindedly toying with Bellamy’s curls as he lays crooked into her chest. 

“Love you too, Griffin.” Raven yawns, gives both Bellamy and Clarke a smooch before flipping over and positioning herself for maximum fan exposure. Clarke and Bellamy are the cuddly ones after sex, and she pouts (silently) over the lack of Raven contact. 

“God, Griffin, you really do have the loudest thoughts,” but Raven's voice is fond as she reaches behind her and grasps Clarke’s hand. Because Raven can sleep anywhere at any moment, her body is already rising and falling with deep, relaxed breaths. 

Clarke leans down and kisses Bellamy’s forehead, and he burrows deeper into her. 

“Can you sleep yet ? Did we satisfy you?” Bellamy’s voice is teasing, but low and drowsy. His fingers trace down her sternum to her stomach, where his hand palms her lower belly and settles there. 

Clarke hums an assent and closes her eyes. Her mind is finally still, and she lets herself sink into the velvety darkness. 

A cool, pre-dawn breeze curls through the window as sleep washes over them like a gentle tide.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to @skikru for being cheerleader extraordinaire  
> And Vera_dAuriac, to whom all the spooning sex I ever write is dedicated.


End file.
